Drarry's Sonata
by drarryxon
Summary: A collection of music inspired drabbles and ficlets containing our two favorite boys from the Potterverse-Draco and Harry. K  to M
1. Information

**Drarry's Sonata **

Summary: This is a collection of drabbles/ficlets, inspired by the songs on my iPod. I have put it on shuffle, and whatever song comes on will be my inspiration. Not everything is going to be happy and cheerful. Some of these will be sad and some will be angsty as all hell. You have been warned.  
>Rating: TM  
>Pairing: DH

Disclaimer: I am not, and have never been and never will be Jo Rowling (sadly). Harry Potter is not mine, and never will be. The characters are Jo's. I just have my wicked way with them for your enjoyment.


	2. Fix You

_Fix You  
>Rating: T<br>_

_Tears stream down your face  
>when you lose something you<br>cannot replace._

Harry looked down at his shaking hands. They hadn't stopped shaking for over seven hours, and it was only getting worse. The smells of St. Mungos were beginning to get to him as well, making him dizzy and nauseated, and the stark-white walls were going to be permanently scarred against his retinas for quite some time.

He had been sitting in the waiting area for several hours, waiting for some sort of news regarding the health status of his husband, Draco. While waiting, Harry had twisted his wedding ring around on his finger so many times now that there was an angry red mark on the skin. He fiddled with his ring when he was nervous.

Aside from the pounding headache he was beginning to develop from being in a color-depraved room for so long, the reason why he was here kept flashing across his brain like some convoluted picture film. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get it to go away.

_We had just been shopping_, Harry thought desperately to himself. _Only shopping for Sevirity's crib_. Luna was carrying a child for them, and she was due within the month. They had been out, shopping for baby items when someone had struck Draco down with an unknown curse. People had watched or just continued walking as the last Death Eater slowly bled to death from every orifice of his body.

_"Harry," Draco had choked out, blood bubbling out across his pale lips. His silver eyes were wide. His hands were clutched against Harry's purple jumper. "It hurts."_

_ Harry was aware of the tears running down his face, but he did absolutely nothing to stop them. He screamed at the passerby: "Why aren't you helping? Someone help!" while Draco writhed in his grasp. Eventually, Mediwizards appeared and they took Draco to the hospital. Harry had followed moments later, only to find pure pandemonium._

_ Mediwizards were everywhere in Draco's room, trying to fix him, trying to staunch the internal bleeding, but nothing was working. They weren't aware of what curse he had been hit with, and they couldn't perform the countercurse. Draco jerked and thrashed violently, still coughing up blood. Harry had wrestled his way through a pair of wizards who were attempting to hold him back to get to Draco's side._

_ He smoothed back Draco's platinum blond hair with his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Draco. I love you." Harry's entire body was trembling._

_ "Don't," Draco choked out, grabbing Harry's shirt again. "Not leaving."_

_ "I love you," Harry repeated again. He screwed his eyes shut as Draco screamed loudly, and then all was silent. The man on the bed was still, no longer breathing, no longer suffering._

Teardrops were splattered against the white tiled floor that lay underneath Harry Potter as he sat in the waiting room, seven hours after his husband of five years passed away. He had nowhere to turn. He was no longer whole.


	3. Innocent

_Innocent_

_Rating: T  
><em>

_Who you are is not  
>what you did.<br>You're still an innocent._

"Potter, you don't _understand_!" Draco shouted at Harry Potter, who was standing several feet from him. Draco's wand was drawn, but Harry's was not. Harry was waiting Draco with a guarded expression, whereas all of Draco's emotions were written across his face. "You don't know the things I've _done, _the things I've _seen_."

"Draco," Harry said quietly, and both the use of his first name and the tone of voice started Malfoy, "I can probably guess a large amount of both." Draco cringed, and Harry took a few steps forward-Draco took a few steps back. "It wasn't your fault."

"Not my fault?" Draco said, exasperated. "_Not my fault_?" He wrenched up the black sleeved of his turtleneck, baring the inky Dark Mark for Harry to see. He neither flinched nor backed away, both of which confused Draco. "I took this mark, knowing what it would mean. It _is_ my fault." Harry moved forward several paces, backing Draco into a wall. He swallowed the large lump that had arisen in his throat.

"Draco, listen to me," Harry said, his breath ghosting across Draco's face. It smelled like citrus. "Who you are is not what you did, and I know that for a fact. You didn't want to do any of the things you did, and that makes you different from every other person who has taken that mark." Harry reached out and closed his hand around the spot that bore the Dark Mark, and Draco flinched. "You're honestly a good person on the inside. If you weren't, you wouldn't have saved my life during Easter."

"I'm not a good person, Harry," Draco whispered, surprising himself with the use of Harry's name. "I'm a horrible person."

"You're not a bad person. You're a good person which horrible things have happened to." The backs of Draco's eyes began to prickle, and he willed away the tears. He didn't want to cry, and he especially didn't want to cry in front of _Potter_. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the hand on his arm slid up and over his shoulder before pulling him flush against the person opposite him. Harry held Draco close, and before Draco knew it, the tears had began to flow free.


	4. Paradise

**_But it flew away from her reach,  
>so she ran away in her sleep.<br>She dreamed of paradise.  
><em>**

Draco leaned into the arms that were wrapped tightly around him, reveling in the warmth and comfort that they produced. He inhaled the glorious scent of expensive cologne and freshly mown grass that clung to the shirt that was pressed against his pointed nose. His long fingers clutched the grey jumper tightly, silently saying "Don't ever go". A pair of soft, slightly moist lips pressed against his forehead and Draco sighed.

"You're beautiful," a deep, velvety voice said quietly, as if the owner was afraid to shatter the moment that had arisen between the two. Draco could feel his blood rushing to color his pale cheeks a delicate, rosy pink.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, pressing his face against the shoulder of the person so that they couldn't see his embarrassment at the compliment. Unsurprisingly, a strong hand gripped his chin and forced him away, causing him to look up into the person's face. Brilliant, deep viridian eyes ringed with thick black lashes looked back at him.

"Don't hide," said the man with the emerald eyes. "You're too beautiful to hide from the world." Draco smiled. The man's eyes flickered down over his mouth. "You should smile more often."

"I only have cause to smile when I'm with you," admitted Draco, his own slate grey eyes flickering over the cupid's bow of the other's lips. The man with the gorgeous eyes smiled and pressed his lips softly to Draco's, and Draco melted against him, hardly able to hold himself up anymore.

The kiss wasn't more than ten seconds long, but it was the best one that Draco had ever shared with another person, man or woman. It was like magic was being transferred between their skin, sending tingles from head to toe, filling them with warmth. When the man released Draco, his eyes fluttered slightly, and his lips were parted.

Draco raised one of his long, thin fingers and traced the lightning-bolt shaped scar that adorned the man's forehead underneath his jet-black fringe. Emerald eyes fluttered shut at the feather light touch.

"I love you, Draco," Harry said, capturing Draco's hand in his own and pressing his lips to the blond's fingertips. Draco's heart skipped several beats before starting up again at double the speed.

"I love you, too," murmured Draco, leaning into Harry's touch. Harry smiled and kissed down Draco's fingers until his lips landed on his palm.

"I always have."

* * *

><p>Draco rolled over and met empty space in his large bed. The Manor was silent, save for the quiet sound of the wind raging outside. He sat up and rubbed his hand across his face, which had red lines across it from his pillow. It was wet with tears.<p>

It was just a dream.

It always is.


	5. Hero of War

_Rating: K+  
><em>

_A hero of war. Is that what they see?_

As the umpteenth person comes up to you to shake your hand and thank you for being 'such a wonderful hero' and an 'amazing person, Mister Potter', you practically growl in frustration in anger. You are tired of this; tired of being told you're a hero, of being told that you're wonderful, that you're amazing, that what you've done is totally and completely spectacular, and 'Can we please have your autograph, Mister Potter?'. Hermione says that people are just celebrating and that it will die down in a few months, but it has been a few months. It's July now. The final battle was the second of May, and your birthday is tomorrow.

Any time, Hermione.

On the plus side, you've run into Malfoy several times as of late, and the two of you are actually getting along fairly well, if traded barbs are better than hexes, at any rate. You consider it an improvement to thrown Unforgivables and _Sectumsempra_, at least.

You disapparate from Diagon Alley, not being able to take the people anymore, and land in Wiltshire, near the Manor. You hadn't exactly been aiming for it, but since you're here... You hurry the few blocks to Malfoy Manor, and you're pleased when the wards on the gate allow you entry without having to wait for someone to walk down the colossal drive to come and fetch you.

Draco must've felt your entry through the wrought iron, for he's standing halfway down the gravel drive, waiting for you. You must look positively _mad_, because he_ tsks_ his tongue and motions for you to follow him. You follow him into the exquisite house. The first few times you had been here, you had nearly had a panic attack, but now you do alright as long as you steer pretty clear of the room that Hermione was tortured in. He leads you to a sitting room and pushes you down onto one of the couches. You let him, and you watch him fetch a bottle of firewhiskey from the liquor cabinet.

He pours you a hefty amount and shoves it in your hand. "Drink," he orders. You obey. It burns on the way down, but it helps dissipate the anger. Somewhat. He sits next to you, his own glass in his hand. He sips at it. "Now, what is your problem today?"

"Everything," you say. You're bloody exhausted. You throw back the rest of your whiskey and for a moment it feels like someone's scrubbed your throat raw, but after another moment, your body warms considerably. You set the empty glass on the coffee table that's in front of you. "I tried to go into Diagon Alley today-"

"And that was your first mistake," Draco says, taking another swallow of his alcohol. You want to smack him. "You should know by now that those people are ravenous for any part of Harry Potter that they can get."

"Hermione said that it would die down in-"

"Well, Granger obviously doesn't know shit, does she?" he asks, his left eyebrow quirked in a perfect arch. You hate to admit it, but he's right. Draco finishes his drink and sets it next to yours.

"The people don't bother me, not really," you start. "It's what they_ say_ that bothers me." You can practically hear Draco's 'Aha! Now we're getting somewhere!' He's practically turned into your bloody therapist. Thank God you don't have to pay him for it.

"What is it that they say that bothers you oh, so much?" And this is why you wouldn't pay him.

"They call me a damn _hero_." You practically snarl the word. You've come to hate the term hero, especially because people seem to apply it wrong to everything. Especially to you.

Draco is silent. You think you may have upset him, considering you're getting all of this positive feedback, and you're angry about it, whilst he's a newly acquitted Death Eater, and he can hardly leave his house without being treated like a pariah. Finally, he speaks.

"You're not a hero, Potter." Come again? "You're just a person who did the right thing." Inside, your jaw drops. "You could have hid out in a tent in the middle of the forest for the rest of your life if you had wanted to instead of doing what you did. You could have left all of us to die, but you didn't. That doesn't make you a hero. That just makes you a... _Gryffindor_." Draco wrinkles his nose, and you laugh. You lean your head on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Draco." He shoves you off.

"Don't mention it." You don't.


	6. Wanted Dead or Alive

_Wanted Dead Or Alive_

_Sometimes I sleep,  
>sometimes not for days.<em>  
>Rating: PG<p>

You turn over for what has to be the four thousandth time in six hours and curl up into the fetal position, which you've come to realize you reside in more often than not when you're lying in bed at night. You should be asleep. You haven't slept more than four hours in the past five days, and you're beginning to feel like a zombie on the inside.  
>You should be able to fall asleep, considering you're exhausted beyond belief. You've just lost a war, for Merlin's sake. You feel like you could sleep for years, but apparently your mind has other plans, for every time you close your eyes, you can see flames licking against the backs of your eyelids. If you actually manage to fall asleep, you wake up with your mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You can still <em>feel<em> the heat from The Room of Requirement. You can also still feel the press of Harry Potter's body against your chest as you held onto him for dear life. You don't know which scared you more—the Fiendfyre or how _right_ it felt to be pressed up against Harry-Sodding-Potter.  
>You roll onto your stomach and sigh loudly. It fills the empty room like smoke. You're not going to sleep tonight, either.<p> 


End file.
